Ducks in a row
Culinary twins Michele and Matthew Barker are cooking up a storm at the Westwood in Beverley, as Dave Lee discovers after bagging a table for a busy lunchtime sitting.
THE Westwood seems to me to be the best-known restaurant in the East Riding that people have heard of but never visited. “Oh, I’ve always meant to go there, is it good?” tends to be the usual response whenever the name comes up in conversation. Why this is, is a mystery. I always simply reply that they should go and that they’re missing a proper treat. Culinary twins (a description you rarely get to write) Michele and Matthew Barker have now been running their exquisite Beverley restaurant for around 17 years and
I’ve never visited when it hasn’t been entirely booked up. People are obviously eating with the Barkers and in great numbers. Perhaps the reason so many people don’t seem to visit is because they are simply unable to secure a table.
Secure one I do – I have my methods – for a busy lunchtime session and we settle into the grand, listed Georgian surroundings to peruse a menu that has changed little since the first time I visited 16 years ago. At the Westwood, the dining options abide not through any creative indolence but, quite simply, because the dishes work and make people happy. There are obviously seasonal amends, the occasional new dish, the odd tweak to a favourite, but mainly the course of the courses curves at a gentle meander without ever a precipitous turn.
I remember the terrine starter from another visit a decade ago. The amazing baked bone marrow (from the side dishes) is a perpetual favourite for reasons that become instantly apparent the second it lands on your table. It’s always the first thing I order. This time I was asking after it before I even got my coat off. And, when I check my old notes, I even find I inadvertently plumped for the same starter on my last visit over five years past.
There is a well-oiled consistency at the Westwood that is comforting but not tired. Like putting on your favourite old jumper when the weather turns in autumn; you don’t worry if it’s still in fashion, you’re just delighted to be enveloped in reliable reassurance.
This visit is on a filthy day. Wind whipping, rain lashing, winter hammering at the door. Inside, though, it is reliably warm and cosy. After some nibbles of olives and nuts and honey mustard chorizo, we sample starters of mostwelcoming roast cauliflower soup (made with a posh cheese, the name of which escapes me) that also included expertly deployed bits of bacon. A hug in a bowl. And I have the aforementioned favourite, aromatic crispy duck salad – a Japanese-inspired plateful of delights featuring pomegranate, radish, cashews, a sticky soy dressing and the most delicious nuggets of juicy, crispy duck this side of Okinawa. I’d (almost) forgotten how good it is.
Baked bone marrow arrives and is destroyed within seconds. I won’t dwell on description,
I’ll just tell you that you shouldn’t visit the Westwood without trying one. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.
We both go meat for mains. Pan-roasted loin of venison offers several perfect chunks of deer alongside crispy cavolo nero, cauliflower and chestnut puree and a red wine jus. There are even maitake mushrooms, which are cooked so well I momentarily overcome my fungi aversion and tuck in with relish. The side of charlotte potatoes cooked in wagyu fat with confit garlic and rosemary goes well with my dish but the other – roasted beetroot, candied hazelnut and goats curd – is much better suited to the main opposite, a Moroccan-inspired harissa marinated Yorkshire lamb dish with smoked aubergine puree, labneh and za’atar roasted carrots, which is very delicately spiced but still decidedly exotic. The candied hazelnuts were my favourite individual detail of the meal, by the way, and little delights that I could snaffle like Smarties given the chance.
The dessert delivered on the other side of the table was a piece of architecture to rival the Sydney Opera House. Large, cantilevered shards of meringue pieces with Chantilly crème and blackberry and passionfruit curd secreted in their eaves conspired to create a unique take on an Eton Mess. It was quite the
piece of work. I thought I’d ordered poorly in comparison as the choux craquelin bun with pistachio cremeux looks less impressive on the plate. Once it has chocolate sauce poured over it by the waitress, though, it quickly becomes quite irresistible. Thick, thin, crunchy, smooth layers of warm pastry hide a centre filled with pistachio ice cream. I didn’t try to work out how they manage to cook the pastry without the ice cream melting, I simply shovelled the whole delightful pile mouthward as quickly as I could.
So, the Westwood carries on. Much as they always have, Michele and Matt utilise every new day by perfecting their restaurant in tiny increments. By close of play, every dish is a little better, the staff a bit more efficient, the diners that diddy bit happier.
A glacial evolution continues not because there is no urge to improve but because there very much is. But because the restaurant works – and works undeniably well – there is no desire to overstretch the operation. There are no swerves into tasting menus, no city centre Westwood 2s or chain of Westwood delis and you won’t find a line of Westwood pasta sauces in Asda. No extraneous balls to take the eye off the most important ball of all. Within the walls of their restaurant, the Barkers ply their trade with simple, quiet efficiency and a dedication to making what they’ve built surely and steadily better. And long may that continue.
I don’t doubt I’ll be faced with people telling me they’ve never been to the Westwood for a good while yet and my reply will simply be that it’s now reached the point where it’s ridiculous they haven’t.
The Westwood, New Walk, Beverley, HU17 7AE www.thewestwood.co.uk